


Silent Curse

by Tarlan



Series: Silent World [20]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-19
Updated: 2003-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:45:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penance</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Curse

The ride back into town from his shack was far harder that expected but Chris pushed on against the swirling dust rising up as the wind whipped around him. Ten minutes ago he had cursed the fact that he'd left his long black duster in his boarding room, and he cursed that fact again as the grains of dust and sand stung his cheeks and eased inside his clothing. His skin itched and chafed as the tiny grains caught in every crevice, and he hoped the bathhouse would be open so he could wash away the accumulated grit.

He sighed in relief as the familiar shape of the town drew closer, his eyes watering from the dust blowing around. He blinked once, and then again as he made out a knot of people gathered around like vultures waiting for a chance to take their fill of a recent kill. A roiling in the pit of his stomach told him that something bad had happened so he pressed on towards the gathered crowd.

As he drew closer, a familiar figure clothed in a buckskin coat stepped out of the crowd, and Chris couldn't help a lightening in his heart and spirit as his eyes met his lover's. Until that moment he'd held a very real fear that Vin had been the victim in whatever event had overtaken the town, softly cursing the five hundred dollar bounty still hanging like a dark shadow over Vin's head.

How many bounty hunters had Vin dodged since coming to this town? Those in the know: Josiah, Nathan, JD, Buck, Ezra, Mary and himself kept a sharp look out for anyone arriving who could pose a threat to him, warning Vin of anyone asking too many questions or rifling through the bounty posters at the jail house. It was the reason for his initial animosity towards the Stokes girls, though they later proved that they were a greater danger to others, and JD in particular. His thoughts turned to JD. The resilience of youth and the support of friends ensured he was back on his feet quickly though they'd had a hard time keeping him from climbing back onto a horse too soon or doing too much while he healed.

That had been three months ago and if there was any residual pain, JD kept it well hidden.

The blue eyes met Chris's, offering silent reassurance but their reunion lasted but a moment before Vin called out to him.

"Chris. Get a look at this."

He climbed down and followed Vin through the small crowd, discovering that his earlier analogy of vultures circling the dead was not so far from the truth. Lying on the dusty ground was a young woman, but he could tell instantly that she would never stand up and brush off the dust clinging to her skirts and bodice. He thought he knew most everyone in the town but she seemed strangely surreal lying there with her eyes glinting strangely.

Ezra was kneeling down close to her head and Chris could see from the tenseness in his frame that he was shocked and upset. A closer look at the woman revealed the gaping slice where her throat had been cut, and then he noticed that her eyes looked strange because they had been covered by glinting circles.

"Who is she?"

"Miss Irene Dunlap. Seamstress. Lived here in town."

Chris looked harder at the dead woman, and sighed softly in recognition. It explained Ezra's strange attachment to the woman as he was not one to mend and darn his own clothing and would have made use of the services of the seamstress from time to time. Now that he knew her name he could picture her face more clearly, recalling images of her walking down the street with a bundle of clothing in her arms. Other than that he knew nothing about her. Was she married? Did she have young'uns? Or was she someone's sweetheart?

"JD's riding out to her folks' place to tell 'em."

Chris looked across at Vin; slightly puzzled that JD, the youngest of them, would be the one to break such terrible news. Usually they left such difficult tasks to the one man among them who had the strength and empathy to console the grieving... but where was Josiah? It was then that he recalled Josiah mentioning a trip to Vista City for a few days. But still, JD was a strange choice... unless he had known her and her family.

The strange circles glinted brightly in the dust-laden air, catching at his attention once more. He recalled once reading something about the Romans or Greeks putting coins onto a dead person's eyes so they could pay the Ferryman to carry them over the River Styx into the land of shades. It had been in one of Josiah's books.

"Are those silver dollars?"

Ezra looked closely at the silver circles. "They appear to be freshly minted, but the dates on them say they're six years old. Seems he saved them for just such an occasion."

Was their killer a well-educated or well-read man? Or did those silver dollars hold a different meaning to the monster that had done this to Irene Dunlap?

"Can we, hmm -- should we move her, get the poor girl off the street?"

Chris looked up, partially shocked to find Mary Travis standing close by with her eyes fixed on the dead girl. He had not noticed her standing in the crowd but then realized that she wouldn't let a gruesome sight such as this stop her from finding a story for her newspaper. He berated himself for his unkind thoughts but a murder of this nature would probably make news in some of the big city papers and bring greater prestige to the writer of the article. He knew Mary had no great ambition to leave behind the newspaper her deceased husband had built here but the thought of a little national recognition for her and the town might color her words.

At least her expression held compassion for the _poor girl_ in question, mixed with a little horror and distaste at seeing her lying there like a discarded ragdoll.

"I'll see to it," said Ezra, climbing to his feet, and that made Chris stare at the gambler for Ezra was usually the last one to offer to do anything. It made him realize that Ezra must have known the girl if only for her clothes-mending skills. Chris moved around the body until he was by her head, leaving Vin to drop down ready to pick up her feet. Nathan dropped down opposite him and Chris looked up to see the pain and sorrow in the healer's eyes. Irene Dunlap was beyond anyone's help and skill. Chris reached for the dead girl's shoulder in readiness while they waited for Ezra to return.

"Don't touch or move anything! I want everybody clear of this scene." A narrow-faced man stepped down from his horse and pushed through the knot of onlookers. Vin and Nathan stood quickly, hands dropping towards their guns as the man approached the body. "Who's in charge here?"

None of the others answered, their eyes flickering towards him instead.

"I suppose that'd be me," responded Chris, looking up at the stranger from where he was still crouched down next to the girl.

The man crouched down opposite. "All right. This woman. She was unmarried. Lived alone. Probably ran her own business. Am I correct?"

Chris narrowed his eyes and stared at the man. "What do you know about this?"

From the corner of his eye he could see Vin straightening, his blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. This man seemed to know far too much about the girl lying dead at Chris's feet, more than he had known even though he'd been protecting this town for well over a year now. Still, the town had grown fast since he and the others accepted their dollar-a-day from the Judge, for people arrived and, rather than keep moving on, they decided this town was a safe place to settle their families. Most of the land within twenty miles of the town had now been claimed, and Chris could only thank his own foresight in pitching his claim on that pretty piece of land not forty minutes ride from the town. If he'd delayed his decision by even a few months then the land would have been taken by one of the many settlers.

Already, the railroad was bringing more and more people into the area even though it passed well outside of the town. Chris had a feeling, though, that the town would gradually grow until it surrounded the track. However, the ever-expanding town brought new problems to Chris and his fellow peacekeepers. There had been a time when Chris knew every person within ten miles of the town but that was no longer the case.

The stranger identified himself as Cryus Poplar, and he showed a card to Mary. Chris frowned when he realized it named this man as a Pinkerton Detective. He'd heard of the Pinkerton Agency, but he didn't have long to ponder on why they had sent a man here as he listened to Poplar describing the case he had been working on for the past two years.

Seven murders so far, and if Poplar was to be believed then an eighth woman would die before the murderer moved on to the next town south of the railroad.

"Any idea what this devil looks like?" Chris could hear the menacing undertone in Vin's voice that was, no doubt, aimed at the man who had murdered this defenseless woman.

"I've never seen him, far as I know."

"All these traveling cowboys in town, it could be anyone."

Vin's remark brought the slightest frown to Chris's face, and then he realized that the small encampment he had skirted just outside of the town had to be one of those traveling shows. The last time such a spectacle came to the town was when Emma Dubonnet brought her show _Getting Gertie's Garter_ to the saloon, but then it had been just a few strangers in town. How many strangers had come with this traveling show? It complicated matters especially as news of the Cowboy show would draw even more people into the town at a time when they needed to be aware of strangers.

"Better set up a patrol tonight."

Poplar agreed, and then went on to ask the question that had been uppermost in Chris's mind.

"Who was the last person to see her alive?"

****

Vin fell in step beside Chris as they followed Mary and Cyrus Poplar towards the church. Ahead of them all, Nathan, Buck and a couple of other men carried the body of Irene Dunlap to the Funeral Parlor where they would await Poplar's arrival before allowing her body to be prepared for her coffin.

They walked in silence, listening to Mary's recollection of last night's events that had ended with Josiah pulling a knife on one of the McCormick brothers, threatening to cut his throat. She recalled seeing Miss Dunlap walk away towards the small room she rented not far from the saloon, and seeing Josiah stumble off drunkenly into the darkness of the alleyway.

Vin gave a silent curse at Mary's choice of words, knowing she was painting a very grim picture of a man that Vin had come to like and respect despite having once been a preacher man. He glanced towards Chris, seeing his lover's firm lips purse uneasily. There had been trouble in the town after Josiah's previous visit to Vista City. It took the best part of a week before Josiah allowed his demons to let go of him last time, spending most of his time buried inside a whiskey bottle... and Josiah could be a belligerent drunk. However, although he might have knocked a few heads together during drunken brawls, Josiah had never shown any malicious intent towards a woman... *any* woman.

Vin gave a wry grin. Chris was an affable drunk in comparison to most of the men in this town, only becoming mean and maudlin if someone crossed his path with a sour word or deed. Unfortunately, those very rare occasions were enough to color most people's views on him, having already been prejudiced by his silent and menacing demeanor while sober. But Vin knew Chris better than anyone, better even than Chris's oldest friend, Buck. He knew Chris was more likely to get mischievous rather than nasty when drunk... in fact, he had counted on it on a few private occasions.

He found a small grin as he thought of how uninhibited Chris could get when he had more than a few belts of whiskey inside him.

They reached the church and walked up the steps, pushing aside the doors. Vin followed Poplar all the way inside and took a seat in the pew opposite a softly snoring Josiah. He bowed his head, offering a prayer to Josiah's God that Josiah had seen something or someone last night so they could start looking for the killer. Glancing back he saw Chris still standing by the church door, looking a little uneasy, but Chris rarely came into the church. He had still not forgiven Josiah's God for taking away his wife and son under such horrific circumstances, and no amount of friendly preaching by Josiah had changed that so far.

Poplar reached over and shook Josiah, calling to him roughly, and Vin heard the rumble of a menacing reply but knew it was a whiskey hangover talking.

"A witness informed me that you stopped a cowboy from harassing a young lady last night."

"Now, who would you be?" Josiah's tone held the belligerence that Vin had anticipated from previous times when the ex-preacher took one too many drinks the night before. He kept his voice low and matter-of-fact as he answered on behalf of Poplar.

"Josiah, this is Cyrus Poplar. He's with the Pinkerton Agency."

The disdainful look on Josiah's face left no doubt in Vin's mind that Josiah had not been given long enough to sleep off the whiskey, and it was then that Poplar remarked on the blood on Josiah's head. Vin leaned forward, frowning, and saw the gash across Josiah's forehead. When Poplar went on to say that Irene Dunlap had been murdered, Josiah seemed genuinely shocked and confused.

"Can you account for your whereabouts last night?"

Vin rose to his feet sharply, realizing where Poplar was going with his line of questioning. "Now, hold on, there. What kind of question is that?"

Josiah mumbled on... recalling seeing Miss Irene, and trying to walk her home... but his almost incoherent ramblings gave an impression that he blamed himself for her murder though Vin knew different. He knew Josiah tended to take the blame for every terrible thing that happened to anyone within his sphere of influence, as if he should have had the power to stop these things from happening. Josiah stared down at hands covered in dried blood, mumbling away, and Vin glanced away at Chris, seeing the concern on his lover's face.

"How long have you known this man?"

Vin straightened slightly, looking Poplar in the eye, "Long enough."

He looked back at Chris expecting to find support from him but Chris looked away, his lips pursed, and his forehead creased in a frown. He glanced back only once before he followed Poplar and Mary from the church but, for once, Chris's expression was totally unreadable. With a silent curse, Vin sat down next to Josiah. He knew Poplar had gone to the Funeral parlor to take a look at the dead girl in the hope that the killer had left some tangible evidence as to his identity though, from his posturing, Vin suspected he already had decided on Josiah being his killer.

"Hell, Josiah, ya keep on taking the blame and Poplar's gonna put a rope round your neck--"

"Need a drink."

Vin cursed again as Josiah pushed him aside and stormed out of the church, heading towards the saloon. He slapped his hat against his thigh in frustration and charged after Josiah.

"Josiah, climbing back into the bottle ain't gonna make this go away. Now, I'm trying to help you here."

"You can stop anytime now."

Vin groaned as Poplar appeared from the Funeral parlor and headed straight for them.

"Mr. Sanchez! I have some more questions to ask you now that your mind is clear."

He stepped in front of Poplar, not wanting any ugliness on the street. "The man wants to be left alone."

"Must be a reason he refuses to talk."

Vin had no answer to that because it would be hard to explain that this was how Josiah was. The man spoke when he wanted -- at great length sometimes -- but not necessarily saying the words someone thought they wanted to hear. Often Josiah's words were just too deep, like riddles that had to be solved. It was solving these riddles that often made a man more aware of his shortcomings, or gave him the answer he sought. Vin knew this time was no different except that Josiah was shouldering the blame for not being there when Miss Irene needed him last night. Vin, of all of them, had come to understand some of the pain Josiah carried even if he didn't know its cause. He'd seen that pain in Josiah's eyes from the first time they met as the man tried to work out his penance on the ruins of the old missionary outside of town before being persuaded to renovate the church instead.

It seemed a better idea to try and divert Poplar's attention away from Josiah until he had sobered enough to give the straight answers Poplar demanded.

"I reckon your time would be better spent asking around about these traveling cowboys."

"Perhaps you'll allow me the courtesy of conducting my own investigation."

The disdain on Poplar's voice reminded Vin of all the other times when he was looked down upon for what he appeared to be. Why couldn't most people see beyond his buckskin coat and long hair? They looked at him and assumed that he was just some simple-minded cowboy who knew nothing beyond roping cattle or hunting buffalo. Vin pushed the anger aside, knowing from prior experience that it would do his cause no good, but he could not help some of that anger seeping into his voice.

"All you need to know about Josiah is that he watched my back in more than one gunfight, and that's good enough for me."

"I promised those girls I wouldn't let their deaths go unanswered, and I will keep that promise. Friend of yours or not."

Poplar stormed off, head held high, leaving Vin standing in the center of the dusty main street wondering how he could prove Josiah had nothing to do with these murders. There seemed to be only two options that he could think of, and the first involved getting Josiah to talk straight about what happened that night. The other was to do what Poplar *ought* to be doing and ride out to see the McCormick brothers. Vin decided to check inside the saloon to see if Chris was there but he saw only Josiah sloshing whiskey into a glass and drinking the contents in one swallow.

With a deep sigh he took a seat by Josiah, ignoring the look that told him his company was neither needed nor wanted. He gave up on his first plan after it became obvious that Josiah was going to ignore him in favor of drinking as much whiskey as he could in one evening without actually passing out at the table. By then it was getting late so Vin assisted a drunken Josiah back to the church to sleep off his latest binge before he headed back to his wagon to fill his saddlebags with what he might need for putting plan two into action. By the time he walked back towards the saloon, night had fallen, but he saw the familiar frame of Chris Larabee step out onto the boardwalk.

"Hey, Vin."

The soft voice sent shivers of pleasure down Vin's spine, culminating in his groin. He felt his body react to the warmth of that greeting, his shaft slowly filling. His fingers itched to reach out and touch the dark-clad figure, wanting to trace a path over the soft lips, and along the firm jaw. He wanted to touch those lips with his own, wanted to feel and taste his name upon Chris's lips. All of his longing came in a single word.

"Chris."

Chris leaned against one side of the upright and Vin leaned against the other, silently wishing there was no wood standing between their bodies. Hell, he wished there were no layers of clothing between them either. He knew how Chris looked, naked and wanton beneath the silvery moonlight, or beside the orange and yellow glow of a brightly burning fire. He loved to see the patterns of light and dark upon the ivory skin as moon or firelight tried to kiss every inch. His own lips burned to sear the warm flesh with kisses, knowing that his own body would be worshiped in kind. The tightness in his groin increased with the pleasurable memories of touching and loving... of being touched and loved.

There were so many things he would have liked to say to Chris at this moment, but those words that had no place out on the dark streets... least not between two men. Once more he envied the freedom a man could have with a woman, until he thought of poor Irene Dunlap and the cowboy who had accosted her with such unwanted words last night. A few questions while trying to keep Josiah out of trouble in the saloon had revealed a little more about the events that had taken place last night.

"The cowboy who harassed Miss Irene was Sledge McCormick. Maybe we ought to ride out to their camp tomorrow."

"All right." Chris flicked a glance towards him. "You manage to wean Josiah off that bottle?"

"No," he sighed, recalling how he'd almost gained a fist in the face for trying to dissuade Josiah from one more drink. In the end he had let Josiah take his fill of the whiskey and then partially guided him back to the church to sleep off another bout of drunkenness. It had been the same four months back when Josiah returned from a journey to Vista City, and the same the time before that.

"He's got a bad habit of losing his memory in it."

The words were soft but Vin heard an uncomfortable undercurrent in them. He knew Chris sometimes drank to forget though it never really seemed to work. Josiah, on the other hand, was one of those that did seem to lose himself in the whiskey... until he sobered the next day and buckled under the additional guilt of knowing he'd just avoided his so-called penance.

"What you trying to say?"

"It's tough to be impartial when the party in question is one of us."

Vin frowned, believing that Chris was speaking of him even though he did not say so outright... and then he realized that there had been a slight wistfulness in his lover's tone. He knew, empathetically, that Chris didn't want to believe ill of Josiah, but the evidence seemed to be weighted against their friend, bringing strong doubts. It occurred to Vin that Chris might be talking equally of himself, that he couldn't trust himself to remain impartial where any of them were concerned. He couldn't trust himself not to find reasons to explain away anything he discovered, wanting to believe that none of them could do such a terrible thing to a defenseless woman.

"That why you're giving the Pinkerton free rein over this thing?"

"If he can help us find the bastard, I don't see how it could hurt."

"Could hurt Josiah... Unless you think Josiah is who we're looking for."

Chris looked at him, his fear of them discovering Josiah was responsible for this murder -- and the others -- clearly visible in his eyes.

"You so sure it isn't? How well do we know Josiah? How well do you really know anyone?"

Vin swallowed hard, not wanting to read between the lines in case he discovered some other hidden message in those words. He wondered if Chris was thinking about Hank Connolly, Sarah's father, who had come into town claiming he had killed Sarah's murderer only to then attempt to murder Buck for the exact same reason. Vin had seen the shock on Chris's face when he realized that Hank had become so deranged with grief that he would murder even a stranger in the firm belief that he was avenging his daughter. Could Josiah be the same? Could whatever pain he carried blot out his memory -- just as it had with Hank Connolly -- leaving him with no true memory of the girls he had murdered, just an echo in his mind that increased his need to find penance?

How well did any of them know anyone?

Vin thought he knew Chris but it was not so long ago that he went off with Charlotte in the belief that Chris didn't want him for a lover anymore. The ghosts of Chris's life were still haunting him and probably would until Chris learned why his wife and child had to die -- and by whose hand. The ghosts of his own life still came calling too, bringing fear of losing Chris, and fear of the loneliness that would follow. What if some bounty hunter turned up one day and Chris stepped between him and that hangman's noose? Or, more likely, between him and the bounty hunter's bullet?

Dead or Alive. That's what the poster said, and there were plenty of bounty hunters that didn't care which it was as long as they got their five hundred dollars.

He shuddered, so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed the muffled cry coming from along the main street. He saw Chris whip his head round to stare in that direction but rather than look as well, Vin tilted his head, keeping his ear turned that way to see if his sharp hearing would capture any more sound.

It was a woman screaming and they took off running in that direction. Chris called out her name as he saw Mary running hard towards them. She raced straight into Chris's arms, her pale eyes wide with fear, her hair in disarray and her slim shoulders shaking as much in terror as against the cold of the night air.

"What happened?" he demanded, staring back along the way she had come running.

"Somebody... grabbed me... in the alley!"

****

Chris looked across at Vin, entrusting Mary into his lover's safekeeping as he raced away without a word, intent on catching the man who had tried to hurt Mary Travis. He reached the dark alleyway where they had discovered Irene Dunlap only that morning and found Mary's shawl lying abandoned on the dusty ground. There were signs of a struggle and Chris ran to the far end of the alleyway where the town gave way to the wilderness, hoping he might catch sight of someone fleeing by foot or horseback but there was no one in sight.

He made his way back through the short alley then stopping to pick up Mary's shawl and then peering hard into the deep shadows filling the alleyway in case Mary's assailant had decided to hide rather than run.

"Anything?"

Chris looked across as he heard Vin's gravel-soft voice. He shook his head slightly, frustrated by his failure.

"Whoever it was, they're gone."

Poplar arrived just behind Vin and he stared along the alley intently, then his eyes narrowed and he indicated towards the darkness beneath the boardwalk.

"What's that? Over there."

Chris watched as Vin reached under the planking for the object glinting there, and when he straightened Chris realized Vin had a hunting knife in his hand, but no ordinary knife.

"Do you recognize it?"

Vin pursed his lips and Chris gave a silent curse to a capricious God. They both knew whom the knife belonged to. They had both seen it used to good effect on many occasions and Chris wondered, for a moment, if Vin's loyalty towards the Seven would outweigh his common sense. He decided not to take that chance, not wanting Vin to be caught out for a liar when the truth came out.

"It's Josiah's," he replied, reluctantly, in answer to Poplar's question, earning a tiny disappointed shake of the head from Vin.

But Chris knew he was right to reveal this to Poplar for, as he had said earlier to Vin, how well did any of them know the others? Had Nathan always been the gentle healer or did he hide a terrible past where he had used his amazing knife skills in a far more sinister way? Was JD the seemingly innocent boy fulfilling a dream conceived out of a dime store novel, or was he running away from a string of brutal murders back East? Did Ezra or Buck hold a dark past, hidden behind their affability? And what of Vin? He had admitted that he had lived with the Comanche and Kiowa as a youth. Had he been part of the scalping parties that terrorized the homesteaders on the frontier before most of the Indian races were marched onto the Reservations?

All Chris truly knew about Josiah was that he carried scars as deep and as dark as any of his own, and that he could be a violent drunk in contrast to his gentle-giant nature when sober. Could that darkness combined with alcohol hide a monster? So far, every piece of evidence, solid and circumstantial, pointed in his direction and Chris was not sure he could ever forgive himself if he said nothing and let another woman die. If Josiah were innocent then the truth would come out.

 _Please,_ he thought. _Let the truth come out, and let it not be Josiah._

As they followed Poplar to the church, Vin refused to fall into step beside him and Chris grimaced, knowing that Vin was annoyed with him but what could he have done? Let them both lie and hope Josiah didn't turn out to be the murderer and taking another life before the truth came out? Anyway, there could be a plausible explanation for why Josiah's knife just happened to be there. After all, Mary had seen him standing close to that spot on the night Irene Dunlap was murdered, brandishing that knife as he convinced the McCormick brothers to leave Miss Irene alone. Josiah had been drunk that night so maybe he dropped it... Maybe...

 _Or maybe he used it on Miss Irene and then lost it when Mary escaped his clutches,_ came a small voice inside his head. Chris looked towards Mary, amazed at her resilience as she took courage in the men surrounding her, relying on their protection. For all his dislike of her small town mentality, fueling the gossip of others with her newspaper, he had to admit that he liked her and respected her strength of character. He knew she would never settle for a man who did not have the same strength, someone who could match her in intelligence too. Everyone thought he might be that man but their relationship had never developed romantically, although they had become close friends. After all, how could it when he was already involved with another, but there were times when he cursed the way the cards had fallen. He should have fallen for Mary. He should have made her his wife, perhaps started a new family, but he was astute enough to know that they would never have been content together. She had her newspaper and her town whereas he wanted the open spaces and the sight of well-bred mares running across the fields with beautiful foals galloping beside them.

That had been his dream -- one he had shared with Sarah. A large ranch house, a corral full of good breeding mares and a thoroughbred stallion, and a contented partner who would share that dream with him.

The church was empty, and Chris sighed when he saw the dismay on Vin's face. No doubt Vin had assisted a drunken Josiah back here earlier and hoped to find him still lying on a pew, dead to the world as he slept off the night's whiskey. Chris made a silent bet that he knew where they would find Josiah now. He headed back towards the saloon and, sure enough, they spotted Josiah alone in the almost empty room nursing another whiskey. Chris stood back as Poplar began his questioning, forcing himself not to interfere despite the arrogance and disdain in Poplar's accusing voice. When he gained no instant response, Poplar stabbed the hunting knife into the table top in front of Josiah.

"And you've no idea how it got there," he sneered, and Chris could see that Poplar was already convinced of Josiah's guilt. It seemed that Mary recognized this too as she leaped to Josiah's defense.

"Mr. Poplar, I know Josiah. He would never attack me."

Vin crouched down beside Josiah, laying his hat on the table and spoke earnestly to him. "Josiah... This man's raising some serious charges about ya. If you've got any sense left in you, give him what you know and be done with it."

"Evil is wrought by want of mind as well as want of heart."

Vin looked away and Chris could see the frustration in his tensed muscles as Vin rose back to his feet and stepped away. They could only help Josiah if he wanted to be helped but the black mood still hanging over the man was making that near impossible.

 _What the hell is in Vista City to make you this angry?_ thought Chris.

It seemed to him that every trip Josiah made to that small, misnamed village on the Mexican border brought misery to the man. It would take a week or more for that misery to slowly dissipate but Josiah would allow no one to help him as he wallowed in self-pity, refusing to even speak of what had caused such anguish and becoming quite belligerent if anyone mentioned Vista City. Until he met up with this small band of men, Chris had firmly believed that he had no right to pry into another's private business, and that they had no right to pry into his. However, he knew his own grief had lessened through sharing it with the others rather than leaving it to fester inside. It occurred to him that perhaps he had purely selfish reasons for being so adamant about not poking his nose in where it wasn't wanted. It was a form of self-defense. He had not wanted to get close to anyone, and had not wanted them to get close to him... but they had managed it anyway... especially Vin.

"Those silver dollars won't buy you penance, mister."

Poplar's words struck a chord with Chris as he recalled Josiah once telling him that his time spent trying to rebuild the church was his penance. Penance for what though? Penance for something that he found or left behind in Vista City?

"Now, you just got back from Vista City, didn't you? Yeah, I heard about that. But, you see, Greely is directly en route. And I found two dead girls in Greely." Poplar raised his voice, giving it a harder edge and he made one final accusation, his words echoing the thoughts in Chris's head. "Tell me what I'm gonna find in Vista City, Josiah. Tell me!"

Recalling his reaction from after previous trips to Vista City, Chris was unsurprised when Josiah's temper reached breaking point and he yanked the knife from the table. With lightning speed, Chris grabbed hold of Poplar and dragged him out of harm's way, leaving Vin to try and calm the angry man but he shrugged off Vin's placating hand. With a surge of powerful muscles, Josiah upset the table.

"Do it again! I'll be your sacrificial lamb!" Josiah stalked towards Poplar with a menacing look in his eye and that wicked-looking hunting blade held in a tight grip. Chris stepped forward, calling Josiah's name as he reached for the angry man's shoulder, and grunting in pain as he hit the wall after being shoved backwards by Josiah.

"But my sins are between me and my God."

Chris's fear of Poplar being attacked was unwarranted as Josiah stormed out of the saloon. He saw Poplar move to follow and planted himself firmly between the Pinkerton Detective and the door.

"No!"

"That man belongs in jail. Now, I have the authority to incarcerate a suspect no matter whose friend he is."

"Not while I'm the law in town."

Chris faced Poplar down, not willing to give even an inch. He didn't understand what was going on with Josiah, and he couldn't be certain of Josiah's guilt or innocence but he trusted his own instincts -- and Vin's. They were telling him to give Josiah the benefit of the doubt. Poplar snarled in anger but Chris could see acceptance in his eyes, and once Chris was certain he had no intention of going after Josiah, Chris stepped aside. He watched as Poplar smashed back the batwing door, wincing as it smacked against the outside wall before swinging back and forth in slowly diminishing arcs.

Without turning, Chris stalked to the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He caught the dismay in Mary's face reflected in the mirror before she turned and left the saloon. Vin stepped up behind him, waiting for some acknowledgment and Chris tried to provide one. It must have been enough though as Vin sighed and then moved up beside him, leaning heavily on the bar. Chris leaned over and grabbed a second glass. He filled it with whiskey and pushed it along the polished surface to Vin.

"Thanks, Cowboy."

They drank in silence, and Chris cursed the seasonal storm, kicking up the dust outside, that tended to send people loco. Combined with Josiah's black mood after his visit to Vista City, the arrival of the Traveling Cowboy Show, and more importantly, the murder of Irene Dunlap, it had made for one hell of a bad day. He fidgeted in annoyance... and he hadn't made it to the bathhouse either.

"If tomorrow turns out as bad as today I'm gonna shoot myself and be done with it."

"Hell, Cowboy. Just make sure you plug me first."

Chris snorted. "Who says I hadn't intended to do that anyway."

It occurred to him that the wagon would be no great place for Vin to sleep during this storm so no one would raise an eyebrow if he offered Vin a share of his boarding room tonight. That thought brightened what had been a miserable day... as long as Vin was not still too annoyed with him to take up the offer. He gave his lover a sideways glance, eyeing up the handsome, strong-jawed face that was partially hidden behind a curtain of long brown curls. Vin must have sensed the scrutiny for he looked across, his deep blue eyes meeting Chris's.

"This storm won't pass for a few days. Gonna be uncomfortable in that wagon."

"Making me an offer, Larabee?"

"You got a better one?"

"Nope. Couldn't think of one better."

The smile warmed Chris through, and he swallowed the last of the rough whiskey with a grimace, setting the empty glass back onto the bar with a soft thud. As he turned away, Chris pulled a few coins from his pocket and sent them spinning onto the bar where Inez would see them. He walked slowly from the saloon, aware that Vin would follow soon enough, already anticipating the pleasurable night ahead... so long as the killer didn't strike again.

Once inside the small but comfortable room, Chris stripped off his hat and gun belt, and then he took off his spurs and toed off his boots. His shirt and other clothing followed until he was wearing only the tight black pants. Chris wriggled his toes, enjoying the freedom of bare feet upon the threadbare rug but still wishing he'd been able to take a soak in the bathhouse.

The light taping at the door brought a smile to his lips but, not being one for taking stupid risks, he pulled his gun and kept it in hand as he opened the door. Vin leaned against the threshold, a small smile playing about his tempting mouth, his eyes already dilating in anticipation of the night to come. He tilted his head, licking his lips and making them glisten invitingly.

"Offer still stand?"

Chris frowned and then saw Vin's heated gaze lower to the gun still held in his hand. He flushed with embarrassment, having forgotten he was holding the Colt, and stepped back into the room. The gun slid back into its holster, and then a pair of buckskin clad arms slid around him. Strong fingers stroked across each nipple before pinching the delicate, sensitive flesh. That luscious mouth nuzzled against the back of his neck, sliding across to nip at the junction of neck and shoulder.

Chris moaned as one hand continued its assault upon a nipple while the other lowered to rub against the hardening flesh at his groin. He pressed back, feeling the stiffness of Vin's desire hard against his ass. The agile fingers flicked open his button fly, slowly, one by one, easing the pressure of the tight material against his eager flesh. He groaned as Vin slid his warm hand inside the opening, his excitement growing as only the thin cotton of his underwear separated him from the rough palm that rubbed deliciously against him.

"Keep that up... and I'm gonna come in my pants," he breathed heavily while torn between the desire to press forward into Vin's hand or push back against the hard erection that had nestled into the crease between his still-clothed ass cheeks.

"That'd be a waste... and I ain't one to be wasteful."

Vin pulled away abruptly, and Chris staggered slightly before regaining his equilibrium. He turned and watched as Vin shrugged out of his coat and then flipped aside the suspenders from his shoulders. His beige pants sagged, captured in their fall by the narrow hips and the gentle swell of Vin's ass. Vin made quick work of his shirt and underwear, then toed of his soft boots and stockings until he was in a similar state of undress to Chris.

When Chris went to remove his pants Vin tutted and waggled a finger.

"You trying to do me out of a job, Larabee?"

Chris grinned, spreading his hands wide, knowing he was presenting a highly erotic sight to his already excited lover, standing there with his pants undone, underwear pushed aside and his wanting flesh rising from the gap.

"Damn it, Chris, you're a goddamn cocktease."

"Better watch it, Vin, or I might take to cleaning that dirty mouth of yours with soap."

Vin struck fast, grabbing Chris's arms and pushing him back onto the bed. He towered over Chris, with eyes so dark that there was little blue to be seen, and his strong, muscular body twitching with suppressed desire.

"Can think of better things to put in my mouth."

He caved in to his needs, leaning over to cover Chris's body, and then his mouth, his tongue battling for possession -- and winning.

"Oh God," Chris breathed once finally released from the passionate kiss.

"Nope... just me, Cowboy. Just me."

"More'n enough."

"Should hope so."

Vin kissed him again while rubbing his hard flesh against Chris. "Much as I like seeing this ass in them tight pants, they got to go."

Vin leaned back and dragged the pants and underwear from Chris's body, sighing in appreciation of the flesh revealed to him. His hand smoothed over the taut thighs, parting them to give him greater access to the treasure lying between them. He leaned forward taking the hard flesh in his mouth and toying with the sensitive head with the tip of his tongue. Chris bucked, startled by the sudden jolt of pleasure that raced through his body. His hands caught in Vin's luscious brown hair, fingers twining in the soft brown curls, and he keened softly as his control disintegrated beneath the onslaught of tongue and hand.

Vin swallowed greedily, only releasing the softening shaft when he had supped at every last droplet. He licked his lips in appreciation, eyes burning with his own unfulfilled need. He pushed back the strong legs and, with just spit and semen to ease his passage, Vin thrust into Chris's body. Chris cried out, accepting the familiar bulk of his lover's shaft filling him. He rocked back, enjoying the almost dry friction of Vin's possession, the ragged edges of pain mingled with pleasure enough to reawaken his desire.

Vin rocked into him, taking him higher with each thrust until they were soaring high above the world, locked into a powerful need that denied all other sensibilities. Chris shuddered as he came again, dry and hard with pure ecstasy while feeling the flood of Vin's hot ejaculate fill his body.

They collapsed into each other's arms, breathing slowly evening until only the rage of the dust storm filled the silence of the room.

"This storm's got most everybody on edge."

"Yeah. Makes people crazy." Chris grinned mischievously, "Even you."

"Don't need no storm to make me crazy about you."

"Damn, you say the sweetest things, Vin." Chris smiled on hearing the throaty chuckle. The silence lengthened between them as they lay snuggled in each other's arms, both reluctant to leave the comfort of the secure embrace even though they needed to clean away the sticky evidence of their lovemaking.

"Planning to head to Vista City tomorrow. See if I can figure out what hurts Josiah so bad when he goes there."

Chris nodded, well aware that Vin had made his decision so there was little point arguing over it. He just hoped everything would be explained by Josiah tomorrow so there wouldn't be any need for his lover to ride away. Eventually, Vin slipped from the bed, reaching for the soft cloth lying next to the basin of fresh water. Chris heard the trickle as Vin squeezed out the excess water before bringing the cloth back to the bed. He smiled softly at Vin's gentle ministrations, not caring that the water felt cold to his overheated flesh. It felt good to feel a little cleaner even though he would have far preferred a long soak in hot soapy water.

Vin slipped back beneath the blanket, rolling onto his side so he could fling an arm, possessively, across Chris's body. He sighed softly, in contentment, his breathing slowly deepening until he slept, lulled by the warm breath upon his neck.

Tomorrow came too soon and they pulled on their underwear quietly, cursing the need to part well before sunrise. Chris lay back on his bed and sighed. He could hear Vin shuffling about as he made himself comfortable on the thin mattress that Mrs. Jenkins left for times like these. She had become used to Vin staying in Chris's room during bad weather, though Chris doubted she had any clue as to what they got up to on those nights. Still, it wasn't worth taking too many chances while there was trouble in town, knowing that someone might burst in on them should a second murder victim be found in the cold light of the dawn.

He smiled, recalling how much simpler life tended to be when they were far away from people. It was part of what he missed from his life with Sarah and Adam; the simplicity, being able to show affection without the fear of being ostracized or imprisoned. Not that he was too concerned about being shunned by others for what he was. After all, most of the so-called decent folk tended to avoid him until they needed his help anyway, but he hated having to conceal the way he felt about Vin. He hated not being able to run over and check Vin was unhurt following a gun battle or fist fight, and he hated hiding in the shadows, grasping at opportunities to share moments of affection.

Did Vin feel the same way? Was he happy to take what he could get out of their relationship or did he resent the fact that they could not be together without fear of discovery? And was it fair on either of them to have to live their life this way? These same questions had been swirling around in his head from the earliest days

The wind had died down a little during the night but Chris could hear it increasing again as they moved towards dawn. The ill-fitting glass in the windows began to rattle gently, and the drapes began to sway as the cool draft sneaked through the cracks in the window frame. He shivered a little, wishing Vin's hot, firm body was still curled up against him. Soft snores drifted up from across the room and Chris wished he could feel the warm breath against his face. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the gentle breathing, letting it send him to back sleep.

****

The next day brought further doubts into the minds of everyone, destroying Chris's fragile hopes of eliminating Josiah as Poplar's main murder suspect. They had ridden to the church, eager to get the talk with Josiah over with so they could ride on out to the traveling cowboys' camp and search for the killer among them.

However, Josiah's mood was still as black as it had been the night before and, in a fit of self-righteous anger, he tore apart the church. An attempt by Nathan to stop the destruction had ended up with the gentle healer sprawled across the floor... and then the worst happened. Poplar backed into a chest of drawers and a moneybag dropped to the floor by his feet. He picked it up, opened it, stared at the contents and then threw the bag to Vin.

Vin shook out a handful of shiny silver dollars.

"You satisfied?"

Poplar stared hard at Chris, daring him to challenge this new evidence. Chris waited a moment, eyes fixed on Josiah as he waited for him to deny having seen the bag and its contents before... but none came. He closed his eyes, still not wanting to believe that Josiah could be the murderer, unable to shake off the shock he'd found on every face except for Poplar. There he saw triumph... vindication... and Chris knew that he had no choice but to accede to Poplar's demand that Josiah be locked up. He could see by the look on Vin's face that he still expected Chris to refuse to lock Josiah up despite this damning evidence. He had already ignored more evidence of Josiah's guilt than he should have, aware that if it had been a stranger rather than a friend then that person would have been inside a jail cell long before now.

Josiah made no attempt to refute Poplar's accusations or, indeed, to say anything in his defense, walking meekly towards the jail and sitting down on the lumpy bunk inside one of the cells.

"Josiah?" he pleaded softly, willing his friend to end all doubts.

"Thank you, lord, for atonement is finally at hand."

Chris smacked the cell bars in frustration as all attempts to get Josiah to open up and help prove his innocence failed. Even a simple denial would have been enough for Chris but Josiah was acting like a martyr... and that would see him hanged. He stared at Vin, seeing the tight-lipped anger and, together they turned away. If Josiah wouldn't help himself then they had no choice but to do their best to save him from the hangman's rope without his assistance... and that meant proving his innocence by finding the real killer.

Nathan was waiting outside. "He wouldn't talk to you either, huh?"

"He's acting like a guilty man! He's gonna get himself hung."

"We'll clear all this up when we find that McCormick cowboy."

Chris could see the resolve in Nathan's dark eyes and knew how much it had to be hurting Nathan to see his friend in this position. They had all tried to get Josiah to talk, and they had all failed miserably especially as every word Josiah did utter just seemed to tighten that noose around his neck.

"I'll see you all later."

Chris watched as Vin mounted his horse and rode away in the opposite direction to the Cowboys' camp.

"Where's he going?"

"Vista City to find out what he can on Josiah."

He saw Nathan's nod of approval, and the concern too. It was a hard day's ride to Vista City and it might all be for nothing but it was all they had to work from if they couldn't prove someone else murdered those women. JD joined Chris and Nathan moments later, and then the three of them headed out towards the camp, intent on finding Sledge McCormick in the belief that he had been the one to kill Irene Dunlap that night. The brothers had ample opportunity to do so, and they were an unknown quantity, traveling around from town to town as part of this show.

As they rode out to the camp, Chris let questions form in his mind. How long had the McCormick brothers been with this group? What towns had they gone through before arriving here? Was there any correlation between those towns and the murdered girls? He refused to dwell on what they would do if it turned out the McCormick's had been with the group for some time for, if that was the case, then either the whole group was protecting them... or they were innocent. After all, there would be no way to hide such a trail of murders from the others. Chris only had to think of the shock wave rippling through this small town to know that it would be impossible for the McCormick's to conceal one set of killings let alone four.

When they arrived there was no sign of Sledge McCormick but Chris saw the others come out of their tents to glare at them balefully. They found his brother, Pace, but he denied his brother's part in the murder.

"Well, I'd like to hear him say that."

"I just said it for him."

Chris snorted in annoyance. The last time he had to deal with two siblings one of them turned out to be crazy... and later shot JD in the gut. He wondered if the same story might be playing out here with Pace taking on the role of Kate. That would make Sledge the unstable 'Mattie'... and their potential killer.

"Don't suppose you'd mind if I looked around?"

Chris, Nathan and JD spread out, checking through some of the tents in the small encampment but he looked up sharply as he heard JD call out. Unfortunately, the others in the traveling show proved their loyalty to their own kind by getting in the way, and Chris had to push past several of them. His instinct for danger set in and he pulled his gun, spinning at the same time, his finger itching on the trigger as he stared into Sledge McCormick's shocked eyes. The man lowered his gun, choosing to live and, moments later, Nathan and JD had subdued the rest of the men in the traveling show.

Chris raced through the horses and tents at the edge of the encampment and caught up with Sledge.

"Come here!" he yelled, reaching to grasp Sledge. "Get down!" Chris shoved Pace to the ground and quickly checked him over for a weapon, seeking the knife that he would have used to slit Miss Irene's throat. "Where you going, huh?"

"I didn't do nothing to that lady, now, I swear it."

Chris had pulled Sledge to his feet by the time Nathan reached them and the keen-eyed healer spotted something amiss with Sledge.

"Where'd you get that bum leg?"

"I busted it when I fell off a bronc last month."

"Let me check it." Nathan reached down for the splintered leg. "Hold still. I want to check it."

"You hold still!" Chris shoved at Sledge, making him stay still while Nathan checked out the man's injury but Chris had a bad feeling that they had just lost their prime suspect for the murders. Nathan looked up in dismay, confirming that the break was no recent injury, or pretense.

"We're looking for a man fast enough to chase down a scared girl and get away after Mary got grabbed."

Chris didn't need to be told that Sledge McCormick was in no fit state to be that man but, if that was the case then why did he try to escape from them?

"If you didn't hurt that girl, how come you ran? You tell me!"

"'Cause I suspected that it was gonna end up on my head, so I ran. I ain't gonna lie to you guys. I done some bad things. But I don't kill no ladies."

Renewed frustration and fear for Josiah filled Chris's head. His eyes darted around the encampment, estimating that there had to be maybe a dozen men in this show. How long had each been part of this show? Was the real killer hiding among them?

"I got more questions for you. Now get up! Go on!" Chris pulled Sledge to his feet, ignoring the man's yowl of pain. "Where was your last performance? Was it in Greely? Huh? Where they found those dead girls?"

By the time they left the camp Chris was unsure what they should do next. The show had ridden in from the North rather than from south of the railway, and all had been part of the group for most of a year. Of course, they could all be lying but Chris had no way to prove that except to send a telegraph to the places they named to see if that part was the truth.

They rode until they were only a little way out from the town and then Chris brought them to a stop. He climbed down from his horse, grabbing his canteen and flicking his hat back from his head. The strong winds had died down a while earlier leaving a cool breeze that ruffled his sweat-soaked hair. He knew it wouldn't last, and that this was just a lull before the storm hit again. By now Vin would be halfway to Vista City, probably stopping just outside Greely to let his horse rest a while before pushing on again. He just hoped Vin found something there to exonerate Josiah as they were running out of time and suspects here.

Nathan dropped down beside him and Chris offered his canteen, accepting it back after Nathan had taken a mouthful. Chris stared out across the plain to where the expanding town was slowly grabbing at the wilderness, unable to keep the resignation from his voice as he spoke to Nathan.

"He didn't do it. He's just a dumb cowboy."

Nathan sighed. "Yeah. Looks like we're back to square one."

"Yeah. Doesn't look good for Josiah."

"You know, if you ask me, Josiah being locked away ain't gonna keep those ladies safe."

Chris silently agreed. Josiah could be a mean drunk, and a killer like the rest of them, but there was a big difference between using a knife, hands or gun to protect another, and using those same weapons to murder defenseless women. Chris would swear on Sarah's grave that Josiah Sanchez was not a murderer. Trouble was, unless they could prove otherwise, Poplar would have Josiah hanging within a day of the Judge turning up in the town for the evidence mounting up against him was too solid.

"I know Rain, she's pretty shook up."

"She's got a right to be."

"You know, she's thinking about getting married back in her village."

Chris smiled softly. "Must not be thinking too hard... since she's here."

Nathan's throaty chuckle filled the air, warming Chris with the glow of friendship that he had rediscovered with this disparate group of men who protected the town with him.

"I suppose. I mean, I wouldn't try to stop her. It's just... I'm not ready for that."

"You got feelings for her. That's clear."

"Oh, yeah. I got feelings for her. It's just they're all mixed up."

Chris frowned. He'd seen Nathan with Rain, and he knew the look that he saw in both their eyes when they were together. He had seen that same look in Sarah's eyes on so many occasions... and in Vin's eyes too. How could Nathan be confused? Unless it was not the love that confused him but rather its implications.

"Mixed up how?"

"I don't know. I mean, everybody I ever got close to... sooner or later they was dead or... sold off or something."

He thought about Sarah and Adam, trying to capture their slowly fading images but it was becoming harder. What had not faded were the feelings he held in his heart for them, feelings that had been overshadowed by grief for the longest time. It had worried him, at first, when he realized that days would pass when he had not thought of them, and then he realized that his thoughts no longer dwelt so hard on their terrible death but centered more on the happy times they had shared. There had been times when he had cursed their names, wishing he had never known them for then he would not have suffered the pain of their loss but then he would never have known the happiness either.

"'Cause you lost them, are you sorry you ever had them?"

Nathan stared at him and they shared a moment of realization that each of them had loved and lost though neither regretted the little time they'd had. Chris turned away and climbed back onto his horse. If this was all that was keeping Nathan from making Rain his wife then Chris hoped there might be a wedding in the near future. His own future, however, was not so clear and bright. There could never be any formal recognition between him and Vin. They would have to spend the rest of their lives hiding their feelings from others, always on edge as they waited for someone to make an accusation that they could not refute.

Was it fair on Vin? Was it fair on him?

He gave his horse a slightly harder dig than intended, instantly regretting it. He murmured soft apologies into his horse's ear as he gave a gentle reassuring pat to the thickly muscled neck.

As they rode down towards the town, Chris thought of his relationship with Vin. They had been through this same loop several months back where he had tried to push Vin away in the hope that Vin would find someone he could love openly. It had worked, after a fashion, as Vin became enamored with Charlotte Richmond. If she had not already been married to another then who knew how it might have turned out. Perhaps Vin would have kept on riding that day, finding a safe haven in Brazil -- and in Charlotte Richmond's arms.

Instead he had come back... but to what? The circumstances that had fueled his initial decision to push Vin away had barely changed. He had recovered from his physical ailment but the ghosts of his life still rode hard on his trail.

He didn't regret a single moment of the time he had spent with Vin... but, like Nathan, he was scared of reaching the day when it would all be gone; when Vin would be gone, just as he had lost Sarah and Adam. It was bad enough that he could lose a good friend, someone he had come to admire and trust if they couldn't find the real killer of Irene Dunlap, but he knew he would go on. In contrast, the day Vin rode out of this life -- or was taken by bounty hunters and hanged -- would be devastating, and Chris wasn't sure he could survive another loss of that magnitude.

Chris looked across at Nathan and saw the dark eyes staring back at him in concern. Silently, he cursed the laws that made what he had with Vin so wrong, but at least Nathan would not have that fear resting on his shoulders should he choose to claim Rain for his wife.

They reached the outskirts of the town so Chris shoved his selfish concerns aside, wanting to concentrate on saving a friend. Somewhere in this town hid the real killer, waiting, ready to strike again at some defenseless woman before moving onto the next town and his next two victims.

As he made his way to his boarding room, Chris paused for a moment outside the jailhouse, then shook his head and moved on. He would give Josiah a night's grace in the hope that he would see sense come morning and help them solve this murder. In the meantime, the bathhouse was open and Chris was determined to make use of its services this day.

****

"You had no right to go see her, Vin."

"I got every right, 'cause I'm trying to save your damn hide. Now, who is she?"

Vin thought back to Vista City. The nun had taken the distraught woman away, casting a baleful glance back in his direction that brooked no further attempts on his part to speak with this Hannah.

"A soul in torment. That's all you got to know."

"Then I'm gonna ride out there and get it out of her myself."

"You stay away from her!"

"Then talk to me, you stubborn fool!" But Josiah looked away, calling Vin's bluff, seeming to forget how high Vin would raise the stakes on account of a friend. He strode towards the door. "I'll give her your regards."

Vin was almost out of hearing range, stepping onto the boardwalk beyond the jail when he heard Josiah's resigned response.

"She's my sister."

Vin moved back into the jail, caught up in the sad tale from Josiah's past as he learned of the father who had destroyed Josiah's family, sending his beloved sister insane. It seemed to Vin that, once more, Josiah had shouldered the blame for events that he had not been in a position to alter.

"And now the Lord is serving up my penance, and I'm looking forward to it, Vin. I really am. I need to find peace."

For the first time Vin truly understood what motivated Josiah. He understood why the man had tried so many different religions and cultures, and why he had traveled so far. He was seeking answers, trying to find out how he should atone for these sins he had placed upon himself. Vin opened his mouth to object, to tell Josiah how wrong he was, and that he had nothing to atone for but another voice spoke out first. Lost in thought as he considered the tormented man sitting behind bars, Vin had not noticed Poplar enter behind him.

"So you will, Josiah. So you will. Overly religious father, sexually promiscuous sister. Even the coins make sense when you think about the resentment he felt for paying for her care."

Incensed at Poplar's words, Vin turned on the Pinkerton detective. "You're twisting around everything he said, and it's gonna end now."

Vin grabbed the set of keys from the hook close by and stepped towards the cell holding Josiah but Poplar drew a gun on him.

"I have hunted him for too long to let him walk away now."

"You listen to me. You got the wrong man, Poplar."

Vin faced down the gun that Poplar had drawn, his grip tight on the keys that would unlock the cell and free Josiah. He knew instinctively that Josiah was an innocent man, just as he had known Chanu was innocent, but Poplar seemed hell bent on seeing Josiah hang for all these murders.

"Give them over, Vin. You ain't gonna do me any good dead."

Vin stared hard at Poplar, knuckles whitening around the keys clenched in his fist. With a soft cry of disgust he dropped the keys, knowing from the cold glint in Poplar's eyes that he would make good on his threat and send Vin to an early grave.

"I'll be back with the guilty man."

He stormed from the jail house, intent on finding Chris and letting him know what he had found in Vista City. As he strode along the boardwalk he thought back to crazed woman that the Mexican boy had led him to after his appeal to one of the nuns had failed. He'd hated stooping to blackmail with Josiah but he had, somehow, known that Hannah was the key to getting Josiah to open up. He'd been right. His threat to go back to Vista City had forced Josiah to reveal the true depth of his pain, and had reinforced Vin's belief that Josiah was innocent.

When Vin reached the saloon he was dismayed to find no sign of Chris, but then, most of the townsfolk were out on the street waiting for today's spectacle to begin, courtesy of the traveling cowboys.

Vin sighed. He had ridden hard to Vista City, bypassing Greely in order to get to the small town by late afternoon. Failing to get anything but the first name of the crazy woman, he had ridden hard all the way back through the night. Now he was hot, tired and dirty, and apart for a stronger conviction that Josiah was innocent, his ride seemed to have been in vain, providing yet another nail in Josiah's coffin as far as Poplar was concerned.

The wind had kicked up once more and he stopped to watch the dust swirl along the main street, then looked back through the crowd for the familiar form of his lover.

Vin gave yet another sigh but this time in exasperation. He thought he and Chris had settled all that business about him deserving better than a relationship lived out in the shadows but his thoughts returned to the previous night. Long after he had found a comfortable position on the thin mattress on the floor of Chris's room, he could hear Chris tossing and turning in the bed. It didn't take a genius to figure out why as he had seen the frustration and sorrow in Chris's eyes as he slipped from his arms just before dawn yesterday.

And it filled him with fear.

He'd already faced losing Chris once, willingly reaching out to Charlotte Richmond as he recognized a kindred spirit and fought to ease the loneliness of this loss. He had ridden away with barely a backward glance... but what if Chris was the one to ride away next time? What if Mary Travis or some other woman offered him the chance to start a new life outside of the shadows? To regain some of what he had lost when his wife and child were killed.

Could I begrudge him the chance to find happiness elsewhere?

Vin knew he would fight -- tooth and nail -- to keep Chris if he didn't believe they would make Chris happy. He just hoped he had the same strength to stand back and then walk away should it be someone worthy of Chris, like Mary Travis.

He saw Mary standing further down the street waiting for the race to start and then realized that today would be JD's chance to win that coveted Winchester. Sure enough, he spotted JD, Buck and Ezra... but where was Chris?

****

Chris gazed along the street wondering when the race would begin. JD had spent most of their journey out to the Traveling Cowboys' camp telling him and Nathan how he was going to win that rifle. Chris didn't doubt it for a moment as JD was an excellent rider; one of the best he'd ever seen and certainly a match for Pace McCormick.

He saw Buck leading the strange looking lady across the street and then laughed with the rest of them when her wig was caught by a strong gust of wind, revealing to all her true gender. He knew Buck had no real prejudices against the kind of man who liked to dress as a woman so he knew Buck had found the whole incident amusing rather than threatening. He doubted Buck would have been at all bothered on discovering his relationship with Vin if he and Vin had been strangers to him rather than close friends. Fortunately, Buck had come round eventually, recognizing that it truly made no difference, and that it had not changed any of them in any way.

Would the others see it that way, though? To be honest, he was fairly certain that Ezra and Nathan knew about him and Vin though neither of them had said anything. It was the occasional look or action that made him suspect that they knew.

A shout went up as the two riders appeared though they were still leading their horses. However, McCormick looked a little out of sorts to Chris's seasoned eye. The smashing of glass could barely be heard above the noise of the crowd but Chris caught sight of the boot as it landed close by. It was Josiah's boot, though why he'd thrown it through the window was a mystery unless Josiah had gone from self-pity back to rage once more. Chris picked up the boot and walked inside, eyebrows climbing when he saw Josiah pressed against the bars with his face no longer frozen into a mask of self-pity.

"Chris. It's Poplar."

"What?"

"Poplar's the killer... and he's out there now."

Chris saw the knife wound on Josiah's hand, recalling how he spotted Poplar leaving the jail house as he walked towards it. He grabbed the keys as everything started to fall into place. Just because they didn't meet Poplar until the morning that they discovered Irene Dunlap, didn't mean he hadn't already been in town the night before. And the money that fell supposedly from Josiah's chest of drawers might just as easily have fallen from Poplar's pocket as he stumbled backwards.

Chris unlocked the cell door and then raced back to the street with Josiah just a fraction behind him. He heard Josiah's deep bellow of a warning, "It's Poplar!", but he couldn't spare the time to see if anyone had heard as he scanned the crowded street for Cyrus Poplar.

"There he is!"

Chris whipped his head around and caught sight of Vin, shoving aside his relief that Vin had made it back to town safely, then turned to see where Vin was pointing. With shock he realized that Poplar believed Mary Travis to be a suitable eighth victim. He started to push his way through the mass of people crowding the boardwalk, all the time yelling though silently cursing his soft voice that would not carry over the enthusiastic sound of the crowd.

There seemed to be no way he could reach Mary in time as he saw Mary accede to Poplar's request to accompany him away from the crowds. Then, suddenly, the thunder of hooves passed him by as the race started in earnest but JD veered away, charging down close to the edge of the boardwalk and snatching Mary aside. Poplar ran, crossing the street and heading for the alleyway opposite. Josiah followed and Chris raced down the next alley in the hope of trapping Poplar between them.

By the time he reached the far end, Poplar was surrounded with Vin and Josiah on one side, and Buck and Ezra backing Chris up on the other. With gun at the ready, Chris watched as Josiah slowly approached the unhinged killer, trying to reach Poplar with his words but Poplar was beyond any mortal help. He turned the knife on himself, ending his miserable existence.

****

Vin sank down onto the step near Josiah, staring out along the main street where the people went about their business as if nothing extraordinary had happened over these past few days. Soon after the race the winds had died down, and the pagan within him had wondered if it had been the spirits of Poplar's previous victims, demanding justice, that had brought those storms to the town with Poplar.

He thought about Hannah Sanchez, knowing it had probably been her sexual promiscuity that had sent her into madness; the effects of a disease that knowledgeable people like Nathan called Syphilis. Many a whore had fallen prone to the disease for that same reason. He first learned about it from a bounty he'd brought in -- a doctor accused of murdering his cheating wife. The man had warned him not to seek the services of any man or woman in a nearby mining camp because of the number of _dirty_ whores there spreading the disease.

"Josiah. What you told me about your sister and all... I just want you to know that... that's between you and me."

"Appreciate that, Vin. But you know, saying it out loud... kind of made it a little easier to bear."

"Mm. Well, now you're free and clear."

"Oh... I'll never be free and clear."

Vin slapped Josiah on the leg and stood up, walking away without another word. Chris and Josiah was more alike than they thought, both of them holding tight to their private grief when sharing the burden with friends would make it easier to bear. He knew there was no use trying to persuade Josiah otherwise at this moment but maybe, now that he had opened up to one person, he might be more inclined to open up to another in the future. Certainly, when Josiah felt the need to go back to Vista City, Vin hoped he would still be around to go with him.

Vin made his way towards the saloon where Chris would be drinking coffee at this time of the day but faltered in his stride when he saw Chris leaning against the upright.

"Chris?"

"Got an itch that I'm fed up of scratching. Came into town three days ago intending to soak in a hot tub and nothing is going to stop me getting in one right now."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. You tell the others... if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse come galloping into town... they can wait 'cause I ain't coming out until I've had my soak."

Vin pulled off his hat and scratched at his itchy scalp, feeling the tiny grains of sand and dust that had irritated him since his hard ride to Vista City and back. He thought about the bathhouse and the big tubs that would be filled with hot soapy water. Silently, he cursed the lack of privacy here in town, recalling the times when they had bathed and lain together at the pond near Chris's place; basking under the hot sun, making love, then playing in the refreshingly cool, clean water afterwards. He knew it would be hard being so close to that tempting body -- already visualizing Chris all wet and naked -- and yet not be able to do a thing about it... but then he gave a wry smile.

"How about I join you. Could use a soak too."

Chris grinned, one had sweeping out in invitation towards the bathhouse.

Maybe they _couldn't_ look or touch here, or whisper erotic words, but he wouldn't regret any moment they shared as friends or as lovers. After all, having _this_ was far better than having nothing at all.

THE END


End file.
